Macbeth
By
William Shakespeare
Act V:
Scene 3

MACBETH.Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:Till Birnam wood remove to DunsinaneI cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?Was he not born of woman? The spirits that knowAll mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus, —"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of womanShall e'er have power upon thee." — Then fly, false thanes,And mingle with the English epicures:The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

Seyton! — I am sick at heart,When I behold — Seyton, I say!- This pushWill chair me ever or disseat me now.I have liv'd long enough: my way of lifeIs fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;And that which should accompany old age,As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,I must not look to have; but, in their stead,Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.Seyton! —

MACBETH.I'll put it on.Send out more horses, skirr the country round;Hang those that talk of fear. — Give me mine armour. —How does your patient, doctor?

DOCTOR.Not so sick, my lord,As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,That keep her from her rest.

MACBETH.Cure her of that:Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;Raze out the written troubles of the brain;And with some sweet oblivious antidoteCleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?